


Incentives

by Insomnia_Productions



Series: The Rat Revolution (Mat/Rand Drabbles) [2]
Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Perrin Is So Done, based on a prompt, featuring gratuitous references to the picture of dorian gray, read to the end for a fun bonus epilogue where Perrin rethinks his best friend choices, talmanes is mentioned because we stan, tutoring au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 03:54:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19804183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomnia_Productions/pseuds/Insomnia_Productions
Summary: "If I pass my exams, you have to go on a date with me.”“What?”Mat winked, and Rand felt his face grow hot. “How’s that for an incentive?”





	Incentives

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xsprinkledheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xsprinkledheart/gifts).



> hey full disclaimer im 17 I don't actually know what college is like

His coffee was getting cold. Rand blew on it anyway, trying not to feel like he’d been stood up on a date. He should have known not to come early. Perrin had warned him. “Mat is never on time for anything,” he had said, grinning with fond exasperation. “He’ll be late for his own wedding, I bet.” 

Still, Rand was who he was, and he couldn’t just  _ not _ arrive early to a meeting. He gave his coffee another half-hearted blow and sank a little lower in his seat, wondering why he had ever signed up to be a tutor. Although, in all honesty, he hadn’t so much signed up as he was metaphorically arm-twisted into the role by Moiraine, his peer advisor, just as he was quite literally arm-twisted into tutoring  _ Mat Cauthon  _ by Mat’s advisor, Nynaeve. But there was no use dwelling on that now. Instead, as he waited, Rand mulled over what he knew of his absent student. 

They were both in their third year. That would be a relief, except that they may as well have been in two completely different universities for all that they had in common. Rand was enrolled in the Black Tower College of Asha’man Studies, while Mat was in the Manetheren College of… whatever it was they did in Manetheren College. Perrin, who had roomed with Mat in first year before being switched to room with Rand, had spent a good hour and a half trying to explain Mat’s field of study to Rand, in preparation for this tutoring endeavor. He seemed to be doing something related to historical research and war studies, but he’d gone in for a self-designed major that Rand couldn’t make heads or tails of, and he couldn’t even begin to think of what Mat was planning to  _ do  _ with his life. More concretely, though, he did know that Mat was broadly known on campus for three things: his pranks, his flirting, and his Band of the Red Hand, the martial arts group he’d founded in first year that was the best in the university and, some said, the country. He also knew that Mat was currently barely passing his classes, although Perrin insisted that he was a lot smarter than he acted. Rand closed his eyes. Just what sort of person was Mat Cauthon? 

The sound of books hitting the table had Rand leaping half out of his skin; his eyes flew open to see a boy with brown hair and eyes flopping into the opposite seat.  _ Finally _ . 

Before Rand could open his mouth, Mat was already talking. “Listen, you don’t have to do this. Nynaeve is terrifying, but even she can’t  _ actually _ force you. Just give up now and tell her I’m hopeless. I’ll back you up. It’ll be fine.” 

Rand took a moment to process this. Tentatively, he asked the first thing that came to mind. “Are you hopeless?” 

Mat scoffed. “Of course I am. My mother tried to get me a tutor in high school, and he quit after two weeks. Not that I wanted his help, anyway, and not that I want yours, either. This will be a nightmare for us both, so do yourself a favor and get out while you still can, before you give Nynaeve hope and she  _ really _ gets her claws in you.” 

Rand broke in before Mat could keep chattering. “No—look, I promised Nynaeve I would do my best, and I’m not going to go back on that.”

Mat shrugged. “Suit yourself. Make yourself miserable,  _ trying your best, _ but okay.” 

Frowning, Rand studied the boy across from him. “Well, Nynaeve and Perrin both seem to think highly of you, and I trust their judgement. I’m not going to give up on you.” 

Mat’s expression, impassive until now, suddenly transformed as a smirk spread across his lips. “We’ll see about that,” he said, and something about that smirk was so intriguing, so wicked, so strangely charming—

Rand cut that train of thought off right where it was and cleared his throat. “Right, so, we’re going to start with your time management.”

Mat let out a groan and dropped his head on the table. Rand felt a smile tug at his lips and he thought, for a moment, that this tutoring thing might not be  _ so  _ bad. 

* * *

After one week of meetings, Rand had had enough. They were on the Green, books and papers scattered between them. Rand was sitting cross-legged, a textbook in his lap and a pen in his hand, but Mat was sprawled on the grass, making what appeared to be a daisy chain—although the flowers on the Green had long ceased to be daisies, ever since that Incident over at the Black Tower College. No one was entirely sure what they were now, but they were surprisingly easy to use in flower crowns. In any case, Mat was definitely not paying attention, as usual, and Rand felt like he probably knew the material better than Mat did, at this point. He glared at his student. 

“Mat. Mat! Are you listening?”

“More or less,” came the lazy response. 

Rand’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, really? Then tell me how the princes of Andor defeated the Cairhienin ambush in 1673.” 

“Fuck if I know,” Mat said. “Tell you how they should’ve done it, though. What they should’ve done is wall up in that great city of theirs and chuck fireworks out at the ambush. They would have had huge amounts of them in the city, at that time of year. It was just a few days before the festival of lights, when the Cairhienins attacked. They would have had enough firepower in the city to equate to modern bombs. Well, maybe not quite that much, but if they used Aes Sedai and Asha’man to enhance the fireworks, they could have dropped them like atom bombs on the Cairhienins. Just a few would have been enough, too. Cairhienins were always better at political games than wars. They would have scattered like ants at the first bomb, let’s be real, especially in 1673, with that useless king leading them…”

Mat rambled on, but Rand had stopped listening. He was staring at his student, eyes widening, and then he dropped the pen and yelled, “I knew it!” 

Mat startled, dropping his not-daisy chain, and twisted around to scowl at Rand. “Light, Rand, are you trying to kill me? Knew what?”

“You  _ are _ clever!” Rand lowered his voice. “You aren’t failing your classes because you don’t understand them, you just don’t care! If we can just figure out some incentives for you to make an effort…” 

“Incentives,” Mat repeated flatly. Propping himself on his elbow, he studied Rand for a long moment, and then a slow smile spread across his face. “Alright. If I do well in my exams this semester, you have to go on a date with me.” 

Rand’s brain, which had been buzzing with ideas to help Mat, sputtered and died. “What?” 

Mat winked, and Rand felt his face grow hot. “How’s that for an incentive?” 

“It’s…” Rand closed his eyes. Summoned the flame and void. “It’s… certainly…  _ an  _ incentive.” 

When he opened his eyes, Mat was watching him. “Well? What do you say?” 

_ I’m so going to regret this, _ Rand thought, and said, “Deal.” 

* * *

A switch had been flipped, it seemed. Suddenly Mat was a near-perfect student, absorbing the material at a pace even Rand struggled to keep up with, at times. He was still loathe to do work, and procrastinated to lengths Rand had never before seen, but he was getting better with each day. Which was why, a month into their meetings, when Mat had thrown down his books and invited Rand to do something fun, Rand had decided to humor him. 

Now, he was beginning to regret that decision. 

“Mat,” Rand said slowly, “don’t panic, but I think I’m dying.” 

Mat’s gaze flicked to him; his eyes, dancing with mirth just moments before, were suddenly dark and sincere. “In that case,” he said, “I will avenge you.” 

A deafening roar exploded from the TV and Rand dropped his controller, relaxing back into his beanbag. There was no point in fighting on; he would be far more useful as bait while Mat took the monster down alone. It was a… Rand squinted at the screen… 

“Zombie Dracula? Seems like overkill.” 

“Tell me about it,” Mat growled, and there was real hate in his voice. “I can’t  _ stand _ this fucker!” 

His fingers worked quickly and furiously over the controller; Rand watched, fascinated, but he soon grew dizzy and averted his eyes. He glanced at the screen, where Mat’s pea plant was launching peas at zombie foot soldiers at a breakneck speed. Rand had never before been so impressed, or so frightened, by a vegetable. Plants Vs Zombies Garden Warfare truly was… something else. 

Rand watched the battle for only a moment, as he soon found his gaze pulled back to Mat. His student—friend, by now?—was leaning forward in his beanbag, eyes narrowed and alight with malice as he stabbed at the controller. There was the hint of one of those trademark smirks on the edge of his lips; Rand found himself looking forward to the moment when Mat would win the battle, and that smirk would bloom in its full glory. Unfortunately, that moment never came. 

Mat let out a howl and threw the controller down as the screen faded to black. Rand reached out a hand and patted him gently on the head. 

“There, there,” he soothed. “It’s because you turned in your essay late. If you get the next one done in time, you’ll beat him.” 

Mat stared at him, and Rand smiled sweetly. 

“Incentives.” 

* * *

The weeks drifted by. Rand found himself spending more and more time with Mat. Much of the time they shared outside of tutoring was spent playing games on Mat’s XBox—although that had stopped for a few weeks after Rand had, in a moment of pure beginner’s luck, managed to kill the zombie Dracula, leading Mat to sulk over the stolen victory for a solid 72 hours—or, more recently, playing petty pranks on Mat’s roommates. But there were other sides to Mat beginning to emerge, aspects to him beyond the playful trickster he presented to the world. Rand loved these new sides to him, most of the time. This... was not one of those times. 

“How could you? How  _ could _ you? Basil is—Basil is the sweetest, the  _ kindest _ , the—”

“The  _ boring _ -est! Face it, Rand, Basil is a  _ bore.  _ Lord Henry may be an asshat, but at least he’s interesting!” 

“Lord Henry is like the 19th-century equivalent of a first-year philosophy major! And, also, he’s  _ evil. _ ”

“Now you’re just exaggerating.”

“He corrupts Dorian to the point of actual murder!” 

“Basil would have  _ bored  _ him to murder years before, let’s not lie to ourselves.” 

Rand pressed his hands together and took a deep breath. Mat observed his struggle and laughed. 

“Look, all I’m saying is, would you rather be with Basil...” at this, he gestured to Perrin, who was lying on his bed with noise-canceling headphones on and a pillow over his face, “...or Lord Henry,” Mat concluded, pointing to himself. 

Rand twisted his nose. “What? Ew. Don’t make me answer that. Perrin is my  _ friend _ .” 

Mat adopted a wounded expression. “And I’m not?”

“Not what?”

“Your friend!” 

“No. I mean, yes. I mean… you’re…” Rand stumbled. “It’s… it’s not the same thing.” 

Mat grinned smugly. “Right. Because you  _ would  _ rather be with Henry than Basil. Obviously.” 

Rand’s first thought was that they had progressed to something beyond 19th century literature, although he wasn’t quite sure what. His second thought was that, even though Mat was  _ unforgivably _ wrong, it was fun to argue with him, and not in the least because the look in his eyes when he thought he was winning did funny things to Rand’s head. Both thoughts struck him like lightning, but, before he had a chance to puzzle either out, a pillow went flying through the room and hit Mat square in the face. 

From the bed, Perrin grumbled, “This is why I moved out.” 

* * *

Rand never should have let Mat drag him to this party. He was uncomfortable here, out of place in his black  _ Asha’man  _ hoodie amongst all these people with their glamorous clothes and music he’d never heard before. At least Mat looked normal. Well, no, that was a lie. Mat’s  _ clothes _ had been normal, yes—simple black jeans and a deep green shirt—though Mat himself had looked anything but. Rand was used to seeing his friend in old trousers and hoodies that clearly hadn’t seen a washing machine in their lives. There was something strange, something almost frightening, about seeing him looking so… different. Not that Rand was seeing much of him; Mat had disappeared fifteen minutes ago, and Rand had been wandering awkwardly around ever since, trying to find him. 

“Hey!” 

Rand turned to see a girl perhaps his own age grinning up at him. Her red dress looked more like a ballgown and her strawberry blonde hair fell over her shoulders like waves. Her smile widened as he met her eyes. 

“I’m Elayne!” she called over the music. “I haven’t seen you before!” 

“I’m Rand. I haven’t been here before.” He lowered his head, trying to be heard without yelling. “Have you seen Mat Cauthon?”

A knowing look glinted in her eyes and she folded her arms. “Mat? Are you another one of his poor conquests?”

Rand’s eyes widened. “No! He’s—I mean—we’re just friends. But he dragged me here and now I can’t find him.” 

Elayne was still looking at him suspiciously, but she shrugged and her smile turned sympathetic. “You probably won’t. It’s hard to find anyone at these things, let alone someone like Mat.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Good luck, though!” 

“Thanks,” Rand muttered, eyes scanning the crowd. Surely it couldn’t be that hard to find him? Elayne lingered a moment longer, then laughed at something or other and swished away. Rand glanced at her as she left, and, as his eyes drifted away again, he noticed a woman walking. She was tall, maybe as tall as Rand, and handsome. Her eyes were like crystals and there were silver threads running through her long yellow braid. She looked like someone out of a legend. And she was leading Mat by the hand. 

Rand watched them disappear around the corner and, for a moment, there seemed to be no air in the room. His stomach dropped; his chest felt tight; he felt as though his lungs were filling with water. Rand didn’t know why, but suddenly he knew that he had to get out. Pushing through the crowd, he fumbled his way to the front door and, nearly kicking it open in haste, spilled onto the street. He took deep gulps of the cool night air, but his chest felt tight as ever, lungs as strained as before. The music rang in his ears. Covering them with his hands, Rand began to walk. His eyes were fixed on the ground, on the blurry image of his shoes on the pavement, and he soon found himself at the library. It was a comforting sight. Rand slipped inside, picked a book at random, and collapsed into a chair. The book was something vaguely Aes Sedai-related. Not that it mattered; the words swam and blurred when he tried to read. 

Letting his head fall on the table, Rand tried to summon the flame and void, but neither would come. He closed his eyes. 

* * *

When Rand woke up, head swimming and eyes hurting, for some reason, it was nearly four in the morning. Shaking himself awake, he closed the book and left the building. He was halfway back to his dorm when he saw someone sitting alone on the Green. No, not someone. Mat. 

Rand flinched and tried to walk faster, but he made the mistake of glancing back. Mat was watching him. Rand bit back a groan; it would be rude, he knew, to keep going, but he really didn’t want to see Mat right now, not when he had probably just gotten back from being with that girl. He wasn’t sure why that bothered him, but, Light, it did. Nonetheless, he found himself turning, his feet carrying him to his friend. Mat’s gaze never left him as he approached. As Rand neared, he could see that Mat had kicked off his shoes, loosened his collar. His sleeves were rolled up, and there was an empty bottle of wine lying on the grass beside him. Rand thought he was probably drunk, and felt a wash of guilt for almost leaving him here. He came to a stop, standing over Mat, and looked down at him. 

“You were going to walk away,” Mat said, slurring his words only slightly. 

“No.” 

“You were.” Rand moved to protest again, but Mat continued over him, “Do you think I’m a whore?” 

Rand blinked. Frowned. Sat down. Eloquently said, “What?” 

“Do you think I’m a whore?” Mat paused a moment, as though expecting an answer, but then waved his hand dismissively. “No, wait, don’t answer that. You do.” 

Rand’s frown deepened. “No, I don’t. Why would you say that?” 

Mat smiled. “When you saw me here, what did you think? Did you think I’d just come from someone’s room?” Rand didn’t answer, and Mat’s smile widened, but it wasn’t a happy sort of smile. “There you go.” 

This felt unfair. Rand defended himself, “But, before, you were… I mean, that girl at the party…” 

Confusion pulled Mat’s brows together, before his face suddenly cleared. “You mean Birgitte? The tall one?” He wrinkled his nose. “Birgitte is my best friend, Rand. I would never—ew. No. That would be like… like you and Perrin. Gross.” 

“Gross,” Rand agreed, not knowing why he felt like the world had just been lifted from his shoulders. “So, where was she taking you?” 

“To meet someone who liked me.” Mat shrugged. “Didn’t like him back. Which was a problem, apparently.” His face darkened and he pulled his knees to his chest. “People always assume that I’ll be down to do anything with anyone. I know that I flirt a lot, and I know I’m not  _ exactly _ a beacon of chastity, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have standards, or that I don’t ever have better things to do with my time. Light, but I can’t go one day without everyone assuming the worst of me!  _ Everyone!  _ Even the way Professor Tylin looks at me, sometimes, like—” He cut himself off with a shudder. 

Rand felt guilty all over again, not to mention deeply concerned about whatever Mat had stopped himself from saying, but there was so much to unpack in Mat’s rant and only one thing was pressing forward, blazing in his mind, that he needed to convey. “Mat, I  _ don’t _ think you’re a- a whore. I never have, and I never will.” 

Mat studied him, and there was something guarded and vulnerable in his eyes. “Sure about that?” 

Rand nodded. He shifted so that he was sitting cross-legged, facing Mat, and met his friend’s eyes. “I… I had ideas about who you were before I met you, based on what other people said. Including about this. I tried not to. But I did. But,” he continued quickly, reaching out to grip Mat’s hands before he could turn away, “I was wrong about you. I figured that much out on the first day. And, every day since then, you’ve continued to surprise me. There’s so much more to you than what people say, and I—I really like it. You. I really, really like you.” 

“Could you tell Nynaeve that?” Mat murmured distractedly. He was looking at Rand like something he’d never seen before. “She thinks the rumors are an accurate reflection of my character.” 

“Rumors never get anything right,” Rand declared. “The only things you should be known for are your pitiful zombie-killing skills and your inability to do your own laundry.” 

Mat laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners, and toppled backwards onto the grass. Rand discovered that he had not actually let go of Mat’s hands, because he quickly found himself falling with him. They lay there together, side by side, and Rand thought he could just about make out Venus amongst the stars. Not that he was looking. Beside him, he heard Mat’s breaths slow and grow even; he had fallen asleep. Rand looked at him and felt a smile threatening to take over his face, although there was no real reason to smile. He gazed at Mat for a short while longer, but sleep was quick to claim him, too, and his last thought was that he  _ still  _ had yet to release Mat’s hands.

* * *

Something changed, after that. Something had shifted that night, or perhaps the following morning, when Rand had woken up to see Mat’s startled face gazing back at him. Mat had scrambled up, babbled an apology and a command to never take drunk-Mat seriously, and run off to his dorm. Rand, perplexed, had wandered back to his own dorm, and they had met again the following day for their usual tutoring session. They had played Plants vs Zombies afterwards, as usual, and Rand let Mat struggle with the Dracula zombie for thirteen minutes before smugly offering his assistance, and they carried on as they always had. But something had  _ changed _ . Rand just wasn’t sure what. 

He didn’t have time to dwell on it, either. Exams were just around the corner, and soon Rand was seeing less and less of Mat as they were both swept away in piles of notes and highlighters. He found himself anxious for the exams to end, not just to bring an end to the stress, but, importantly, to bring an end to this period of being away from Mat. He mentioned this to Perrin, once, and received a long-suffering groan and a pillow to the face. 

Finally, though, Rand’s exams were over, and, not long after that, he was sitting in front of his laptop and waiting for that fateful email to pop up with his grades. Any minute now… any minute… 

Perrin leaned over his shoulder and laughed. “What are you worried about? You’re going to be top of your class, as always.” 

His words were punctuated by the  _ ding  _ of an incoming email. Rand yelped and clicked the link. Perrin scanned the screen over his shoulder, grinning, and ruffled Rand’s hair. “Told you so.” 

“Shut up,” Rand murmured half-heartedly. Then his eyes widened and he sprang to his feet. “Light, Mat! His’ll be out, too!” 

He felt Perrin’s eyes on him as he rushed to pull his shoes on. “Think he’ll have done well?” 

“I think he’ll have done great,” Rand puffed out, managing to get one shoe on. “He’s really improved a lot since—ouch—since we started.” He began to struggle with the second shoe. 

Perrin folded his arms. “Since the deal, you mean.” 

Rand, both shoes on, froze in place. Slowly, he straightened. “Yes. Since the deal.” 

“If he’s done well, which I don’t doubt he has… you ready for that date?”

Rand gave him a weak smile. “Why not? It’s just a date, right?” 

“Right,” Perrin echoed. “Just a date.” 

Rand looked at him for a moment, and then grabbed his phone and headed for the door. As it swung shut behind him, he could hear Perrin scoff and repeat, “Just a date.” 

Pushing Perrin and his cryptic looks from his mind, Rand raced down the stairs and onto the pavement. He turned the corner in full sprint, and caught only a glimpse of wide brown eyes before he slammed into Mat, sending them both tumbling to the ground. 

Rand scrambled to his feet. “Oh, Light, I’m sorry! You alright?” 

“Yep,” Mat groaned, scowling up at him. Rand helped him up. 

“So? What did you get?” 

At this, Mat’s scowl disappeared, overtaken by a broad grin. He flashed his phone in Rand’s face. “I’m fifth in my class! Would’ve been fourth, but that bastard Talmanes beat me out—well, I’m not really mad at him, Talmanes is too adorable to be mad at.” 

Rand beamed and pulled him into a hug. “Fifth! That’s incredible!” He pulled away and folded his arms. “I knew you just needed incentive.” 

Mat’s grin suddenly turned sly. “Yeah, well, speaking of incentives…” 

“Yes, the date, I remember. Is that still on?”

“A deal’s a deal, my friend.” 

Rand sighed theatrically. “Fine. Tonight?” 

“Meet me here at eight.” With that, he turned on his heel and left. 

Rand shook his head and checked his watch. It was five. More than enough time. Right?

* * *

“Rand, for fuck’s sake, it’s five minutes to eight!” 

“I know, I know! Just help me decide which shirt—”

“It literally does not matter!” Perrin dragged a hand down his face. “You know, for  _ just a date _ , you’re really putting a lot of effort into this.” 

Rand glared at him. “I always put effort into things.” 

“Of course you do,” Perrin deadpanned. “Look, it doesn’t matter what you wear. He’s not going to like you any less.” 

“What? Who said anything about him liking me? I’m just trying to look decent for a night out.” 

Perrin groaned and shook his head. “You—he—I—” He gave a little, defeated sigh and flopped into a chair. “The red shirt. Just… wear the red shirt.” 

Rand smiled; he’d been leaning towards that option, too. “Alright. Thanks, Perrin.” 

Perrin muttered something under his breath, but Rand wasn’t listening. He pulled the shirt on, ran a hand through his hair, and rushed for the door, arriving outside his dorm at eight on the dot. Surprisingly, Mat was there already, wearing the green shirt from the party. Rand stumbled slightly; they must have put in an extra step when he wasn’t looking. 

“You dressed up,” Mat smirked. 

“So did you.” 

Rand thought Mat’s ears went a little pink, but that might have been the dusk light. They began to walk. Mat took him to a lively bar in the heart of the town. The people there seemed to know him well; as they approached, the bartender smiled broadly, eyes flitting between them. “I see you’ve done well in your exams, lad.” 

Mat rolled his eyes. “You say that like you doubted me, Thom.” 

“Every step of the way,” Thom said cheerily. His eyes fell on Rand. “Although, if you’d brought him in before, I might have reconsidered your chances.” He nodded to Rand. “Nice to finally meet you. Young Mat here never stops talking about—”

“Okay!” Mat broke in loudly. “Thanks for that, Thom! Drinks, now, please!” 

Thom placed two bottles on the counter and went away, laughing to himself. 

“Wait, we didn’t get to order,” Rand frowned, but Mat shushed him, pushing one bottle towards him. 

“I’ve been planning this for months,” he explained, smiling around his own bottle. “Drink up.” 

So Rand drank, and they talked, and about an hour and a half later he stood, feeling slightly light-headed and extremely confused as to how they had reached this point in the night. ‘This point’ being that Mat was currently standing on top of the bar, on one leg, juggling five, no,  _ six _ empty bottles. Only three or four were theirs, Rand thought; the others were donated by other patrons eager to see Mat juggle them. This sort of thing was normal here, apparently. Rand wondered if this was what Mat had been planning for months, or if he was just doing what he liked, now. Knowing Mat, either could very well be the case. Not that Rand minded any of this; he had become entranced in watching Mat. At first, it had been the sheer anxiety that had drawn him in—those were glass bottles, for the love of the Light!—but somewhere along the way he had forgotten about the bottles, and was now solely fixated on watching  _ Mat _ . There wasn’t a shred of concentration on his face; he was smiling lazily, eyes drifting around the room like juggling six glass bottles was the easiest thing in the world. His leg was wobbling slightly, but Rand could see no sign of imbalance beyond that. He was framed and backlit by the bar, by dim lights of shifting colors and rows of old bottles stacked on their sides. Rand watched him as he tossed the bottles high into the air; watched as he brought them all back down and handed them to Thom; watched as he took three low, sweeping bows and leapt off the bar; watched as he approached Rand with a flushed face and gleaming eyes. 

“I bet that  _ Basil Hallward _ would’ve disapproved of  _ that _ ,” Mat said, breathless, because he was  _ still _ on about that, burn him, and Rand really, really wanted to kiss him. 

So he did. 

It was nice when Mat kissed back. It was nice to taste the wine on his lips, to feel his fingers in Rand’s hair. It was nice, but it wasn’t until they parted—when Mat stared at him with eyes so wide, when the smile he gave Rand was uncharacteristically shy and sweet, and when he moved in again, not for a kiss, but press their heads together and stay there—that Rand knew this was it for him. 

And then Mat snorted and whispered, “Lord Henry wins,” and Rand shoved him to the floor and left him there to laugh by himself. 

* * *

_ Five Years Later _

Perrin was right. 

Well, Perrin is usually right, but, for the love of the Light, did he have to be right about  _ this _ ? 

Rand is standing at the altar. Perrin, his best man, is standing beside him. Birgitte, Mat’s best woman, is there, too. Everything is in order, except that there is a big Mat-sized gap where Mat should be. Perrin can already feel a headache coming on. It’s growing stronger by the minute. In the pews, people are beginning to whisper. Rand, for his part, is standing with his eyes closed, most likely having disappeared into the void, leaving Perrin to cope with this anxiety on his own. Typical. 

And then the doors burst open. People turn in their seats; Rand opens his eyes; Perrin’s headache reaches a crescendo. Mat stumbles in. 

He is yelling, as always. “Sorry, I’m sorry, there was a—I lost my shirt for a while, and then—I just—I couldn’t get my damn  _ shoes _ on—” He continues in this fashion all the way up the aisle, and Perrin resists the urge to bang his head again the nearest pillar. The Light save them all. 

The Wheel turns twice before Mat finally, finally reaches the altar, and then he rocks on his heels and flashes the most shit-eating grin Perrin has ever seen. “Sorry, Rand,” he whispers. “I got bored waiting for this thing to begin, so I started watching Brooklyn 99… and I just lost track of time…” 

How this man is getting married is a mystery Perrin doesn’t even want to solve. 

Then Rand starts laughing quietly, and Mat smiles at him like he’s just pinned the stars to the sky, and Perrin thinks,  _ oh, that’s how.  _

He finds himself smiling with them. His friends are chaotic and dumb, but they are his friends, and he loves them, and he’s happy for them— 

“I still can’t believe you agreed to marry me if I topped grad school,” Mat murmurs. 

“Incentives,” Rand teases back. 

Fuck it. Perrin wants to go home. 

**Author's Note:**

> hey so this fic drove me insane trying to write it 
> 
> Thank you for reading - I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, hey, a kudos and a comment never hurt. i need validation
> 
> This is, of course, a gift for the wonderful xsprinkledheart/@dreamy--dolly. Thank you for the prompt! It was super cute and I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it <3


End file.
